Morning light washed across New Babel, soft gold spilling over patched rooftops and mismatched towers like paint strokes on broken canvas. The city breathed, waking in layers — vendors lifting tarps, guards switching shifts, children chasing half-deflated balls down cracked pavement.
Ren walked beside Akira, hands in his jacket pockets, eyes half-lidded with sleep and existential dread.
"Why is training this early?" Ren groaned. "My spirit isn't awake yet. My soul needs breakfast first."
Akira didn't slow his pace.
He didn't look over.
He didn't offer comfort or sympathy.
He poked Ren's forehead.
Hard.
"Maybe if you had a brain cell, it'd be awake."
Ren slapped his hand away, offended on behalf of his neuron.
"I have several brain cells."
Akira's eyebrow rose. "Prove it."
Ren opened his mouth.
Paused.
Closed it.
"They're shy."
Akira exhaled sharply through his nose — the closest he came to laughter in public.
The training compound sat in what used to be a sports stadium — seats collapsed, field replaced with dirt and stone, walls lined with old world graffiti drowned beneath talismans and MSE conduits.
Tech and ritual fused into one mismatched ecosystem — wired pylons humming beside prayer flags, drones hovering near shrine poles.
People trained in circles — sparring, spirit meditation, basic aura shaping.
Some pushed weights.
Some sat cross-legged, breathing in rhythm.
Some stared at rocks trying very hard to make them float.
(They failed. Mostly.)
Ren blinked slowly.
"…I could've stayed in bed."
Akira crossed his arms.
"Commander's orders. Everyone showing awakening signs is being evaluated."
Ren kicked a pebble. It hit a wall, ricocheted, and hit him in the ankle.
He hissed in betrayal.
Akira didn't help.
He simply muttered, "Karma," and kept walking.
Morning light washed across New Babel, soft gold spilling over patched rooftops and mismatched towers like paint strokes on broken canvas. The city breathed, waking in layers — vendors lifting tarps, guards switching shifts, children chasing half-deflated balls down cracked pavement.
Life, stubborn and loud.
Ren walked beside Akira, hands in his jacket pockets, eyes half-lidded with sleep and existential dread.
"Why is training this early?" Ren groaned. "My spirit isn't awake yet. My soul needs breakfast first."
Akira didn't slow his pace.
He didn't look over.
He didn't offer comfort or sympathy.
He poked Ren's forehead.
Hard.
"Maybe if you had a brain cell, it'd be awake."
Ren slapped his hand away, offended on behalf of his neuron.
"I have several brain cells."
Akira's eyebrow rose. "Prove it."
Ren opened his mouth.
Paused.
Closed it.
"They're shy."
Akira exhaled sharply through his nose — the closest he came to laughter in public.
New Babel Training Grounds
The training compound sat in what used to be a sports stadium — seats collapsed, field replaced with dirt and stone, walls lined with old world graffiti drowned beneath talismans and MSE conduits.
Tech and ritual fused into one mismatched ecosystem — wired pylons humming beside prayer flags, drones hovering near shrine poles.
People trained in circles — sparring, spirit meditation, basic aura shaping.
Some pushed weights.
Some sat cross-legged, breathing in rhythm.
Some stared at rocks trying very hard to make them float.
(They failed. Mostly.)
Ren blinked slowly.
"…I could've stayed in bed."
Akira crossed his arms.
"Commander's orders. Everyone showing awakening signs is being evaluated."
Ren kicked a pebble. It hit a wall, ricocheted, and hit him in the ankle.
He hissed in betrayal.
Akira didn't help.
He simply muttered, "Karma," and kept walking.
A hush spread subtly across the grounds.
She arrived without fanfare — as if she stepped from silence into sound.
Tall.
Black hair braided tight.
Scar across her cheek like a blade once loved her enough to leave a mark.
Her coat bore faded military lines crossed with sacred stitching — soldier meets shrine guardian.
Commander Yuna.
Veteran.
Shield of New Babel.
Rumored to have once punched a spirit dragon unconscious for insulting humanity.
Her gaze grazed Ren.
Just once.
He felt it like ice water down his spine.
"W-Why do I feel judged for things I haven't even done yet…"
Akira answered without looking at him.
"Because you'll do them."
Evaluation Begins
Yuna's voice carried, firm but quiet — the kind that didn't need volume to command respect.
"Awakened candidates, step forward."
A group gathered — about twenty youths. Some nervous. Some proud. Some trembling.
Ren stood among them, hands in pockets but shoulders instinctively lowered like he expected lightning to strike.
(Which, in this world, was not an irrational fear.)
Yuna paced before them.
"Spirit energy defines who you are.
It answers to your conviction… or your chaos."
Her eyes lingered briefly on Ren again.
He swallowed.
Akira whispered from behind the line, "Quit sweating. You look suspicious."
"I am suspicious. I don't know of what, but I am."
Yuna raised her hand.
A faint glimmer rippled across her skin — MSE, steady, controlled, like a calm ocean holding storms beneath.
"You will each demonstrate aura stability."
Ren leaned to the student beside him, whispering:
"How do you demonstrate stability if you've never had stability in your life?"
The kid blinked. "…I— I meditate?"
"Yeah but like emotionally—"
Yuna's gaze snapped to him again.
Ren stiffened, straightened, and stared dead ahead like a guilty golden retriever pretending innocence.
"Maintain focus," she ordered.
She gestured to a stone pillar in the center of the grounds.
"When called, place your hand on the pillar. Allow your spirit to flow. We will measure resonance."
One by one, students stepped forward.
Some glowed faintly.
Some sputtered like dying light bulbs.
One kid burst into tears immediately and apologized to the universe.
Ren patted him as he passed.
"It's okay, man, sometimes existence just crashes."
Then—
"Ren Ito."
His body reacted before his brain.
He stepped forward automatically.
Hand met the stone pillar.
Silence.
No, not silence — something beneath silence.
Like the world inhaled.
For a moment, Ren felt nothing.
Then—
a heartbeat.
Not his.
Old.
Deep.
Like mountains dreaming.
Like oceans remembering.
Something inside him stirred.
Silver light flickered at his fingertips.
It wasn't bright.
It wasn't dramatic.
It wasn't controlled.
It was raw.
Hungry.
Trying.
The pillar vibrated.
Dust fell from old cracks.
A faint seismic pulse rippled outward — small, but real.
Gasps murmured around the field.
Ren blinked.
"…Huh."
Yuna's eyes sharpened.
Her voice was low.
"Step away."
Ren stumbled back, shaking his hand like it tingled.
"It's not my fault. It just… did spirit things."
Yuna didn't answer immediately.
She simply studied him — like he was a live grenade wearing a hoodie and bad decisions.
Akira watched too, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
Whispers
Among the trainees:
"What level was that?"
"He doesn't even train properly…"
"Did the pillar… respond to him?"
A girl with braided hair whispered:
"Isn't he just a supply runner?"
Someone else shook their head.
"Not anymore."
Ren listened, scratching his cheek.
"Guys please don't hype me up, I'm very breakable."
Yuna Approaches
She stood before him, close enough that he saw faint scars across her knuckles — proof she had fought things that didn't bleed normally.
"You felt something," she stated — not a question.
Ren hesitated.
"…Yeah. Something… awake. Or waking."
"Describe it."
Ren looked down at his hand.
How do you describe a whisper from inside your bones?
"…Like a heartbeat.
But not from me.
Like it belongs to the world. Or something older than the world."
Yuna's eyes narrowed.
"And inside you?"
Ren looked up, quiet now — not joking, not dodging.
"…Like something wants out."
A ripple ran through the trainers.
Akira's hand twitched toward his sword unconsciously — not to fight Ren, but because ancient instincts stirred when forces bigger than men woke.
Yuna studied him a long moment, then nodded once.
"Do not attempt to force your awakening. You are unstable."
Ren gasped dramatically.
"Emotionally unstable, maybe—"
"Spiritually unstable," she corrected.
He paused.
"That's fair."
Others continued their evaluations.
Ren sat on a cracked bench near the edge, gnawing on a stale ration bar someone tossed him.
Akira approached silently.
"You're reckless."
Ren chewed. "Mmmmaybe…"
"You punched a demon in the face yesterday."
Ren swallowed.
"It punched first."
"You charged it."
"Semantics."
Akira stared at him.
Then sat beside him with a sigh.
"…You're changing."
Ren kicked his feet idly.
"Everything changes. This city, the world, lunch menus—"
"You aren't funny right now."
Ren blinked.
Akira rarely sounded serious without sounding angry.
This tone was different — wary, quiet, almost protective in a way he'd never admit.
Ren tugged his sleeve down over his hand.
"…Is it bad? Whatever's happening?"
Akira didn't answer immediately.
Then:
"…Power isn't good or bad. It's hungry."
Ren frowned. "That's not comforting."
"Wasn't supposed to be."
Ren leaned back against the bench, staring up at patch-work sky — blue streaked with drifting defense drones and faded prayer flags strung between battered poles.
"I don't want to be some chosen-whatever. I just wanna run supplies, eat bread, and not die."
Akira snorted.
"Too late."
Ren groaned, dropping his head into his hands.
"Ughhhhhh destiny is stupid."
Akira looked at him sidelong.
"…Yeah. It is."
And that surprised Ren enough that he peeked through his fingers.
"You… agreed with me?"
Akira clicked his tongue. "Don't get used to it."
Elsewhere near the first seal of Naraka a Desolate city two figures
sitting on a destroyed sky scrapper
Above the ruined shrine from earlier, black feathers drifted again.
Not normal feathers — heavy with malice, dissolving into smoke mid-air like shadow trying to breathe.
A figure stood at its gates, unseen by all but the silent world.
Cloaked.
Horns faint beneath the hood.
Eyes burning gold-red like judgment and hunger born into flesh.
A voice, smooth as starfall, whispered into the void:
"So… the brat stirs."
A second presence answered — only a whisper of silk and seduction, echoing like a blood-stained prayer.
"Lucifer will be amused…"
A third voice rumbled, like war drums soaked in centuries of violence.
"If the boy awakens fully… we crush him."
The cloaked figure smiled thinly.
"If he awakens fully…
there may be no crushing him."
Feathers scattered into dust.
Wind swallowed their presence.
New Babel laughed and trained and lived — unaware of the gods watching.
Aware only of one foolish boy rubbing his temples and whining about destiny.
"Ren."
He looked up.
Mei stood before him — clipboard tucked tight to her chest, face carrying its usual storm of worry and responsibility.
"You're being transferred to a special training unit."
Ren's soul left his body briefly.
"MEI NO."
"It's already signed."
"BETRAYAL!"
Akira stood. "Come on."
Ren flailed dramatically.
"I didn't ask for power! I asked for pastries!"
Mei sighed, then — quietly — smiled.
"You can still get pastries. After training."
Ren froze.
"…Promise?"
Mei nodded. "Promise."
Ren exhaled like someone revived by baked goods and hope.
"…Okay. I will fight destiny if I get a croissant."
Akira facepalmed.
Mei shook her head.
Commander Yuna watched from afar, arms crossed.
Her gaze was not unkind.
Just sharp, distant, calculating — as if she saw pieces on a divine chessboard starting to move.
She exhaled once, soft.
"Stay alive, Ren Ito. The gods have returned to the board."
Commander Yuna
A hush spread subtly across the grounds.
She arrived without fanfare — as if she stepped from silence into sound.
Tall.
Black hair braided tight.
Scar across her cheek like a blade once loved her enough to leave a mark.
Her coat bore faded military lines crossed with sacred stitching — soldier meets shrine guardian.
Commander Yuna.
Veteran.
Shield of New Babel.
Rumored to have once punched a spirit dragon unconscious for insulting humanity.
Her gaze grazed Ren.
Just once.
He felt it like ice water down his spine.
"W-Why do I feel judged for things I haven't even done yet…"
Akira answered without looking at him.
"Because you'll do them."
⸻
Evaluation Begins
Yuna's voice carried, firm but quiet — the kind that didn't need volume to command respect.
"Awakened candidates, step forward."
A group gathered — about twenty youths. Some nervous. Some proud. Some trembling.
Ren stood among them, hands in pockets but shoulders instinctively lowered like he expected lightning to strike.
(Which, in this world, was not an irrational fear.)
Yuna paced before them.
"Spirit energy defines who you are.
It answers to your conviction… or your chaos."
Her eyes lingered briefly on Ren again.
He swallowed.
Akira whispered from behind the line, "Quit sweating. You look suspicious."
"I am suspicious. I don't know of what, but I am."
⸻
Yuna raised her hand.
A faint glimmer rippled across her skin — MSE, steady, controlled, like a calm ocean holding storms beneath.
"You will each demonstrate aura stability."
Ren leaned to the student beside him, whispering:
"How do you demonstrate stability if you've never had stability in your life?"
The kid blinked. "…I— I meditate?"
"Yeah but like emotionally—"
Yuna's gaze snapped to him again.
Ren stiffened, straightened, and stared dead ahead like a guilty golden retriever pretending innocence.
"Maintain focus," she ordered.
She gestured to a stone pillar in the center of the grounds.
"When called, place your hand on the pillar. Allow your spirit to flow. We will measure resonance."
One by one, students stepped forward.
Some glowed faintly.
Some sputtered like dying light bulbs.
One kid burst into tears immediately and apologized to the universe.
Ren patted him as he passed.
"It's okay, man, sometimes existence just crashes."
Then—
"Ren Ito."
His body reacted before his brain.
He stepped forward automatically.
Hand met the stone pillar.
Silence.
No, not silence — something beneath silence.
Like the world inhaled.
For a moment, Ren felt nothing.
Then—
a heartbeat.
Not his.
Old.
Deep.
Like mountains dreaming.
Like oceans remembering.
Something inside him stirred.
Silver light flickered at his fingertips.
It wasn't bright.
It wasn't dramatic.
It wasn't controlled.
It was raw.
Hungry.
Trying.
The pillar vibrated.
Dust fell from old cracks.
A faint seismic pulse rippled outward — small, but real.
Gasps murmured around the field.
Ren blinked.
"…Huh."
Yuna's eyes sharpened.
Her voice was low.
"Step away."
Ren stumbled back, shaking his hand like it tingled.
"It's not my fault. It just… did spirit things."
Yuna didn't answer immediately.
She simply studied him — like he was a live grenade wearing a hoodie and bad decisions.
Akira watched too, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
⸻
Whispers
Among the trainees:
"What level was that?"
"He doesn't even train properly…"
"Did the pillar… respond to him?"
A girl with braided hair whispered:
"Isn't he just a supply runner?"
Someone else shook their head.
"Not anymore."
Ren listened, scratching his cheek.
"Guys please don't hype me up, I'm very breakable."
⸻
Yuna Approaches
She stood before him, close enough that he saw faint scars across her knuckles — proof she had fought things that didn't bleed normally.
"You felt something," she stated — not a question.
Ren hesitated.
"…Yeah. Something… awake. Or waking."
"Describe it."
Ren looked down at his hand.
How do you describe a whisper from inside your bones?
"…Like a heartbeat.
But not from me.
Like it belongs to the world. Or something older than the world."
Yuna's eyes narrowed.
"And inside you?"
Ren looked up, quiet now — not joking, not dodging.
"…Like something wants out."
A ripple ran through the trainers.
Akira's hand twitched toward his sword unconsciously — not to fight Ren, but because ancient instincts stirred when forces bigger than men woke.
Yuna studied him a long moment, then nodded once.
"Do not attempt to force your awakening. You are unstable."
Ren gasped dramatically.
"Emotionally unstable, maybe—"
"Spiritually unstable," she corrected.
He paused.
"That's fair."
⸻
Training Resumes
Others continued their evaluations.
Ren sat on a cracked bench near the edge, gnawing on a stale ration bar someone tossed him.
Akira approached silently.
"You're reckless."
Ren chewed. "Mmmmaybe…"
"You punched a demon in the face yesterday."
Ren swallowed.
"It punched first."
"You charged it."
"Semantics."
Akira stared at him.
Then sat beside him with a sigh.
"…You're changing."
Ren kicked his feet idly.
"Everything changes. This city, the world, lunch menus—"
"You aren't funny right now."
Ren blinked.
Akira rarely sounded serious without sounding angry.
This tone was different — wary, quiet, almost protective in a way he'd never admit.
Ren tugged his sleeve down over his hand.
"…Is it bad? Whatever's happening?"
Akira didn't answer immediately.
Then:
"…Power isn't good or bad. It's hungry."
Ren frowned. "That's not comforting."
"Wasn't supposed to be."
Ren leaned back against the bench, staring up at patch-work sky — blue streaked with drifting defense drones and faded prayer flags strung between battered poles.
"I don't want to be some chosen-whatever. I just wanna run supplies, eat bread, and not die."
Akira snorted.
"Too late."
Ren groaned, dropping his head into his hands.
"Ughhhhhh destiny is stupid."
Akira looked at him sidelong.
"…Yeah. It is."
And that surprised Ren enough that he peeked through his fingers.
"You… agreed with me?"
Akira clicked his tongue. "Don't get used to it."
⸻
Elsewhere — unseen
Above the ruined shrine from earlier, black feathers drifted again.
Not normal feathers — heavy with malice, dissolving into smoke mid-air like shadow trying to breathe.
A figure stood at its gates, unseen by all but the silent world.
Cloaked.
Horns faint beneath the hood.
Eyes burning gold-red like judgment and hunger born into flesh.
A voice, smooth as starfall, whispered into the void:
"So… the brat stirs."
A second presence answered — only a whisper of silk and seduction, echoing like a blood-stained prayer.
"Lucifer will be amused…"
A third voice rumbled, like war drums soaked in centuries of violence.
"If the boy awakens fully… we crush him."
The cloaked figure smiled thinly.
"If he awakens fully…
there may be no crushing him."
Feathers scattered into dust.
Wind swallowed their presence.
New Babel laughed and trained and lived — unaware of the gods watching.
Aware only of one foolish boy rubbing his temples and whining about destiny.
⸻
Return to the living world
"Ren."
He looked up.
Mei stood before him — clipboard tucked tight to her chest, face carrying its usual storm of worry and responsibility.
"You're being transferred to a special training unit."
Ren's soul left his body briefly.
"MEI NO."
"It's already signed."
"BETRAYAL!"
Akira stood. "Come on."
Ren flailed dramatically.
"I didn't ask for power! I asked for pastries!"
Mei sighed, then — quietly — smiled.
"You can still get pastries. After training."
Ren froze.
"…Promise?"
Mei nodded. "Promise."
Ren exhaled like someone revived by baked goods and hope.
"…Okay. I will fight destiny if I get a croissant."
Akira facepalmed.
Mei shook her head.
Commander Yuna watched from afar, arms crossed.
Her gaze was not unkind.
Just sharp, distant, calculating — as if she saw pieces on a divine chessboard starting to move.
She exhaled once, soft.
"Stay alive, Ren Ito. The gods have returned to the board."